


Cloudy Days

by Teabanana



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Rukia is a country girl, Slow Burn, there will be no infidelity in this story!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26121481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teabanana/pseuds/Teabanana
Summary: AU where Rukia, a normal 15-year-old human from a small rural village, transfers to Karakura High School for a better education. In a long, long-distance relationship with her childhood friend, the type where you have cheap rings and everything, her world turns upside down when she meets Ichigo the grumpy bastard with his so-not-dyed hair and ever-present scowl.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. Karakura

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Reddit August 2020 Prompts Challenge for the random trope Wedding Ring Removal.
> 
> However, the plot bunny got out of hand and the story became too long as you can see... :3
> 
> Now a multi-chapter story!

_Feelings will cloud your judgement._

_When I see him, it fills me with courage, and I am drowned in joy._

—

Rukia grew up in a tiny village called Inuzuri. It was so far from the urban cities that there was only cellphone reception from one telecommunication company, and even then the call quality and internet speed was dreadful. Of course, being so rural and far from technological advancement, the villagers barely knew what the internet was. They still lived in badly insulated huts with an external toilet that several families had to wait their turn for each morning. It was impossible to completely eliminate the rats and cockroaches, people urinated in the streams and corners of houses, and there was always a lack of food since birth control was unheard of and new families would grow big in no time. But it was a very simple life. Albeit uncomfortable to some extent, but it was all Rukia knew.

Rukia's sister Hisana did not grow up in this village. She had never answered Rukia's inquiries about their past, but Rukia had heard plenty of tales from the middle-aged gossiping aunties. This was a very small village, and people rarely came or left, so everyone remembered that day fifteen years ago when Hisana had appeared out of nowhere. Bruised, battered, holding an infant Rukia in her arms and pea-sized tears in her eyes. She was so young herself, with not a single womanly curve to her, and was definitely not grown enough to raise a child as small as Rukia. This village was poor though, and no family had both the capacity and generosity to take in two extra mouths. Some had suggested splitting them up to be adopted separately, but Hisana had clutched Rukia's small body like a lifeline and refused with eyes like thunder. So Hisana raised her alone, surviving on the kindness of strangers who would become as dear as family. This was a very small village, and people rarely came or left, but once you become part of it, it would always be your home.

Life became easier when Hisana married into the Kuchiki family. She was only sixteen at the time, but she and Byakuya were fated to be and nothing could go against them. Besides, sixteen wasn't young by any standards in this village where women as young as twenty would already have birthed four or five children. Byakuya's family was not affluent by any means either, but at least they had a house and they could sleep on blankets instead of hay. The little Kuchiki hut had seemed infinite to the five-year-old Rukia. She remembered squealing in excitement as she ran around the small indoor space, while Hisana and Byakuya looked on fondly towards her.

Hisana's body was buried in the small plot of land where the Kuchiki family laid their loved ones to rest. She would never be able to answer Rukia now.

"Go to this place," Byakuya said, his dark eyes still shadowed in grief as he handed her a thin envelope decorated with a seal of elegant letters, "Hisana would want you to be there."

And that's why Rukia is currently here! She stands at the gates of Karakura High School, eyes squinting and neck craning as she struggles to see the top of the multistory building. This city has a lot of structures in this form, all sharp angles and smooth walls with clear panes of glass dug into it every so often. Rukia's own apartment has one of these things too, called 'windows'. She was so amazed when she saw it the first time that she walked straight past the uncluttered room and creamy walls, right into it! Everything in this 'city life' looks so new!

Trembling in excitement, she marches towards the ground floor office where she is to report to on her first day. She almost bumps into several people along the way and bows to them in apology by the method described in the manga in her bag. She then continues marching on, oblivious to the looks of puzzlement around her.

The door opens to her three delicate knocks. "Good day," she curtseys, her eyes beaming into a slit, "My name is Kuchiki Rukia. Today is my first day at Karakura High School. I was told to report here?"

"Uh, who are you?"

Rukia's smile fades by a fraction. She opens her eyes wider and sees a young man with outrageously orange hair, the colour of fiery clementines, an insult to the order of society! His eyebrows are knitted so tightly together that his eyes are almost crossed. There is no sign of the word 'relaxed' or 'good morning' or 'I-had-a-smooth-bowel-movement-today' on his face. What a sight!

"I am Kuchiki Rukia," She replies, her expression still sweet and polite. "How may I address you?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo." The man yawns, scratching the back of his orange head as if he has a bad case of head lice. "What are you doing here?"

"I was told to report here," Rukia repeats in the same honeyed tone. If she is a character from the manga-in-her-bag, the veins near her eyebrow will probably be starting to pop. She is definitely not known for having a good temper!

"Here?" Ichigo scoffs, "Open your eyes, you're told to come _here_?"

Rukia is having trouble keeping her lips upturned. She raises one threaded eyebrow and looks past him. There is a decent-sized space there, although a little cluttered.

"Yes?" She says, looking back at his face.

"This is the broom closet!" Ichigo exclaims, flapping his hand behind him as if there is something visible to him but not to her.

"Oh…" Rukia says. They don't have closets to put brooms in back in her hometown but it seems like brooms are treated quite well here. In fact, past the protruding carrot in her way, she can see that this place is just a tad bigger than her apartment room.

Ichigo sighs, his expression placating as he looks her from up to down. "Are you a middle school student?" He asks tactlessly.

The veins are really popping now. Rukia grits her teeth, fists clenching as she attempts keeping her pleasant facade in place. "No."

"Primary school then? Are you looking for someone? Big brother?" His expression lightens slightly as he fires these insolent questions. "What's your name?"

Rukia's eyes flame up in rage. She snatches his collar and drags his face to her nose and bellows, "MY NAME IS KUCHIKI RUKIA! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF?! HAVE YOU NO EARS?"

The initial shock in Ichigo's eyes gets quickly replaced by the same blazing fire. "YOU'RE THE ONE THAT'S BOTHERING MY SLEEP! COME ON, YOU WANNA FIGHT!?"

"BRING IT ON!" Rukia cries, sending her free fist into his open scowl with minimal restraint. He grunts as his face is pummeled, then recovers quickly and bashes his forehead against hers like an anvil. She recoils with a yelp of pain, the force of his iron temple sending her slamming into the other side of the hallway. She quickly revives, rising into a boxing position as she prepares to fight this rogue. He troops from the closet into the light of the morning sun and trumpets a war cry, charging towards her with his knuckles raised and head held high.

"STOP!" A roar sounds from the end of the hallway. They both turn to the source of the sound, still held in their positions fueled by the hormone responsible for the 4 F's. A fat middle-aged man in a burgundy tuxedo with a glossy mop of black hair stands at the end. His expression promises pain and repercussion, although his features look like a mouse. After a dramatic pause, he calls, "IN MY OFFICE!"

Rukia and Ichigo look at each other. The right side of Ichigo's mouth is a mess. The skin of his bottom lip is red and broken and the darkened corner of his mouth will soon become a brilliantly purple bruise. Rukia's forehead is a spreading healthy cherry colour, matching the dainty ribbon necktie still fastened at her collar. Rukia bears her teeth like a cheetah and hisses, watching Ichigo's eyebrows furrow further as his raised fist vibrates.

"Hn!" She scoffs, dropping and folding her arms in front of her as she follows the teacher, leaving Ichigo behind in the dust.

Ichigo trails after her, keeping a reasonable distance as he scowls, hands in his pocket. Students in the hallways ogle after them with great interest, but upon meeting Ichigo's incandescent eyes they quickly look away, afraid of violence. Still, they are curious. What kind of person dares to provoke the famous orange-haired delinquent? Although, according to those that knew him in the past, his savagery has mellowed out a lot since middle school. He gets pretty good grades too. It's just, you know, he has that permanently constipated look on his face, with a dash of haemorrhoids perhaps, like something execrable and detestable has gotten underneath his skin, yeah.

"Tell me about the situation," The vice principal says gravely. "What brings you to quarrel so distastefully in the halls SO EARLY IN THE MORNING?!" His voice sopranos like a scale.

"She—"

"I'm sorry, Vice Principal," Rukia sobs, bringing out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbing her eyes with it. "I should not have participated in such _disgraceful and inelegant crime_!" She cries, snapping her head up, tears springing from the corners of her eyes like birds setting off to fly.

Ichigo's eyebrow twitches. What is this complete switch in character? Is she an actress or something?

"It-it's okay Kuchiki-san, here, don't cry…" The vice principal hurriedly stands from his chair and rushes to Rukia, placing an awkward hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure there was a reason behind it, it's okay, it's not your fault!" His eyes flash towards Ichigo with suspicion.

'She made the first move,' Ichigo thought, his permanent scowl doing nothing to appease the vice principal. However, being a man of character, he will not make an argument against a little girl.

"Kurosaki, detention for a week!" The Vice Principal commands, pointing a thick index finger at Ichigo's chest.

"What!" Ichigo exclaims in injustice, "She made the first move!" His character shatters.

"I'm sorry!" Rukia weeps some more. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_!" She buries her face in her eyes and begins wailing.

The vice principal is clearly not equipped to deal with crying girls. He stutters and stumbles, eventually telling them both to go back to class, even forgetting Ichigo's punishment. As soon as the door closes behind them, Rukia's face clears up like the weather and all traces of tears evaporate. She smirks at Ichigo, although she has to tilt her head upwards slightly thanks to their generational height difference.

"Cat got your tongue?" She grins like a Cheshire Cat.

"You…" Ichigo has never met a more infuriating woman! He is lost for words! The vein in his own temple pops and throbs like the main character from the manga-in-her-bag.

"Nice meeting you, _Kurosaki_." She guffaws, absolutely unladylike as she strides back down the corridor to heaven-knows-where. What a damper on his morning! Ichigo too heads off to his own classroom, not wanting to be late and gifted extra work from the beloved Ochi-sensei. Why is that kid wearing their school's uniform anyway? Must be a cosplayer. Good thing he won't need to see her again. He'd dye his hair black if she gets to him one more time.

Later, when Rukia is introduced as the new transfer student to his class, Ichigo is reminded of how he really, really needs to listen better.

And so marks the start of Ichigo and Rukia's brilliant belligerent adventure.

—

Luckily Ichigo didn't verbalise his hair-dye promise, because if he went through with it, his hair would now be a starless midnight sky.

Rukia is what he would proudly call a devil-in-disguise. On the outside, she is angelic and sweet, with a laugh as dainty as a bell, sitting on her neatly folded legs while she dabs crumbs from her lips with a flowered handkerchief. However, on the other side…

She makes his blood boil like never before! She left an ugly lion seat cushion on his chair that he thought was a peace offering, but when he sat on it, a booming flatulence noise escaped from the area between his backside and the chair. Ichigo's face had flamed like an atomic bomb and tried to explain himself as his surrounding classmates shuffled away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her, two seats down, fingers pinching her nose as she stuck out her tongue at him as if to say "ha, take that!" What on earth did he do to deserve this? Sure, he replaced her beloved chappy eraser with a duck one while she wasn't looking, but were they really at the age to be so hung up on stationery? He gave it back in the end, didn't he? Even if he added some masculine decorations on the bunny's face? Even if this was already round three of their retribution battle? This woman sure knows how to hold grudges!

Ichigo chuckles darkly as he thinks about his retaliation. Maybe it's time to turn up the heat and give his all. He didn't want to get serious with a girl, but maybe he had underestimated her. She has now proven herself!

Planning his revenge with vengeance and passion, Ichigo sets off on the way home. Although his expression is daunting to bystanders, he is actually very happy. Only a true battle, with a fitting deserving enemy, can make one feel so alive!

A few days ago, a car crash happened at an intersection where a young girl died on impact. This intersection is on his returning path, a T-intersection where the lower part of the T is so discrete that drivers often do not notice people coming out from it. Ichigo had placed a flower in a bottle next to the closest telephone pole as a tribute to help her pass on to the next life.

There is a group of skateboarders flocking about the intersection. Wearing graphic T-shirts and baggy pants, they joyfully conduct flashy manoeuvres with excessive ranges of movement. Their chortles and gleeful snorts resonate through the air with little grace and control. Well, to each of their own, not his business unless someone disrespects the dead or something heinous like that.

One of them skates past the telephone post and knocks over Ichigo's bottle of one single flower. Ichigo's face darkens, cracking his knuckles as he gets ready to give them a gentle reminder.

However, before he can get too near, a slim white leg shoots from the hidden intersection like a hungry swan's neck, colliding with the offender's face with great fervour. Rukia's small body follows her leg, the force of her power pushing the man face down on the cement floor.

"What the!" The other skateboarders yelp, running to the commotion with their hands raised like unprofessional boxers.

"Leave this place now," Rukia says, lifting her foot from the unfortunate exemplar's face and folding her arms across her chest.

The skateboarders circle her like a pack of dogs. "You suddenly appear and kick over Yama-chan, plus you want us to get out of here?!"

"What are you thinking?"

"You wanna die?"

"HUH!?"

The first skateboarder that spoke, the one wearing a rather knitted looking beanie, rushes towards her with his arms ready to fight. "Say something, you—"

Rukia's leg rises like a crane and drives unforgivingly into Beanie's face as well, pressing him to the ground in a cloud of smoke.

"Aah!"

"Toshirin's down!"

The leftover skateboarders tremble into a bunch, their expressions full of trepidation and sweat.

"D...Don't know what's going on, but this is dan-dangerous!"

"I've never seen such irrational violence…"

"That chick's definitely one of those… If we fight her, we'll be killed for sure…!"

"Shut up already!" Rukia roars as she stomps her long leg upon another skateboarder, arms still folded. "All of you guys look over there!"

She points at the telephone pole where Ichigo had left the bottle. It lies pitifully and horizontally, the neck chipped, water spilling out and darkening the cement.

"QUESTION 1!" Rukia bellows, her voice sending the remaining upright skateboarders shivering into spring onions. "What the heck can that be?! You there, the stinky looking one!"

"M-me?" The stinky looking one answers, "U...umm...an offering to the kid who died here recently…"

"Great answer!" Rukia approves while her beautiful leg impacts with his chin and sends him tumbling onto his back.

"QUESTION 2!" "Micchan!" "You okay, Micchan!?"

"Then why is the vase...knocked over?" She glances at them with eyes shadowed by the shade of her hair, arms still folded, a deadly glint sending chills down their spines.

"Th...that's…"

"That's cuz we knocked it over… skateboarding…?"

"I see…" Rukia says, unfolding her arms as she slowly points behind her at the telephone pole. "THEN SHOULDN'T YOU APOLOGISE TO HER?!"

"KYAAAAAAAAA!"

"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!"

"I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE! I'M SORRYYYYY!"

The delinquents lift their fallen comrades onto their shoulders and bolt like squirrels. Rukia claps away the imaginary dust and relaxes her arms beside her body. "Hurry up and go to heaven, kid that I can't see."

What a well-said speech! Ichigo couldn't have said it better himself! This girl has got _spirit_!

Ichigo postpones his revenge. The next day, he sneaks a few extra glances at her in class, watching her hands fly as she copies notes from the blackboard. Her head flips up and down as she switches between reading and writing, concentration evident in the slight crease between her brows. She's the same amount of hardworking in every subject. Even science, which she seems incredibly confused at given the blankness of her expression every time the teacher speaks. However, she doesn't ask for handouts, never participating in the morning rush of homework borrowing Ichigo even participated in once or twice himself. Ichigo respects that. Hard work, dignity, honesty. He respects her.

He has a list of things to buy from the grocery store today, a twice-weekly duty that his dad insists everyone in the family has to participate in. As he picks from the stand of vegetables, a small figure bumps into him.

"Sorry," a familiar voice says, so much shorter than him that he could almost see the entire top surface of the supermarket staff cap on her head.

"Rukia?" Ichigo says as Rukia looks up from beneath her cap.

"Ichigo?" She answers back.

"You work here?" Ichigo asks. School had just finished not long ago. How did she get here so fast?

"Just the evening shift." Rukia replies. What does she mean, just the evening shift? Is there any other shift that students can work without skipping school?

"Oh," Ichigo says intelligently. "Okay."

"Well, see you later," Rukia finishes loading fruit into the stand and gets ready to push her trolley away.

"Wait!" Ichigo calls.

Rukia turns back to him in question, "What?" She does not look irritated, only curious.

Ichigo is at a loss of words. Precisely, what indeed? He doesn't really want it going around that he's the type to place flower offerings for deceased children. It's not that he's embarrassed about it, it's just that the parents might think of him as a pervert. It's not something to boast about either.

"I saw you with those skateboarders yesterday." He begins.

"Oh? What do you have to say about it?" She takes her hands off the trolley and turns to face him directly.

"..."

"Oh, was it you that left the offering there?" How did she guess!?

"What if it was me?" Ichigo answers back, ready to defend himself.

"Hmm, you're actually a pretty sensitive chap, aren't you?"

A smirk decorates her lips. It is not taunting, only amused, even pleasantly so. "What's wrong Ichigo, not willing to own up?"

"No, just surprised about you," He replies, trying to read her.

"We stand in awe before what we cannot see, and respect everything that cannot be explained."

"I don't believe in invisible things."

"Is that so. I guess you and I are quite different then." She says, resting her elbow on the handle of the trolley. "Why did you do that then? Can you see ghosts?"

"Ghosts don't exist. That kid was alive once. It's for the sake of the family, will be good to know that someone remembers their kid."

"Do you know her personally?"

"Seen her play there a few times."

"Interesting," She says, looking him in the eye, "I think I'm getting to know you better."

"Same here," Ichigo replies, not backing down as he stares her back. She's one of the few strangers not wary of him, refusing to relent despite his harsh facial expression and unbending stubbornness. She treats him like any other person, maybe even worse actually, and never tries to avoid him or butter him up.

"Well, see you around, Ichigo," She smiles, breaking their optic battle as she wheels her trolley away.

That night, Rukia dreams of walking with Ichigo in the rain, under a large, black umbrella. She wakes up dazed, wondering about the meaning of the dream and why it makes her chest strangely tight.

—

"I just don't get physics!" Michiru moans, burying her head in her arms after seeing the vivid, red, lowly number on her test paper.

"I don't get it either!" Keigo cries, waving his test paper as if he has nothing left to lose anymore. The number on there is a solid grade boundary lower than Michiru's mark.

"Neither do I…" Mahana laments, flashing her even lower mark. "What did you get, Kuchiki-san?" She asks, peering over Rukia's shoulder without her usual energy. What she sees, however, makes her gape like a goldfish.

"...What?" Rukia asks, her mark on full display as she organises her stationery.

"Kuchiki-san... " Michiru, who has come to get a look for herself, says, voice full of pity.

"Isn't it good to get number one?" Rukia picks up her test paper and points to the single-digit number.

"...Let's form a study group to strengthen our bonds! Hey, Ichigo!" Keigo calls, waving his arms in desperation. "You're good at science, come teach us!"

"Why do I have to teach you?"

"Come on, be a good friend Ichigo~~~" Keigo begs, reaching for Ichigo's paper and getting his wandering arm hit by a strong karate chop. "OW! That hurt, Ichigo! You cruel person!"

"Shut up." Ichigo grumbles, folding his test paper and putting it in his bag. "Go study by yourself."

"Even Kuchiki-san is joining! Come on, friends have to help each other in times of need!"

Ichigo mutters something under his breath before sighing and giving one stiff nod. Keigo cheers and flies off to announce this to the rest of the class. And so, a spontaneous lunchtime study group is formed on the rooftop!

"I don't get it." Chizuru pouts, lying flat on her stomach as she flips through the textbook. "What's this millimetre of mercury business? Why can't it just start from one? I don't get it at all!"

"Isn't that because of the atmospheric pressure?" Michiru points out, doodling in her own book.

"What's that?" Keigo groans, "The pressure you feel in a test?"

"It's the pressure of earth's atmosphere," Mizuiro sighs. "It's the pressure on a surface from the air above as the object is pulled to Earth by gravity."

"You're so smart Mizuiro! Wait, how does that work?"

"It's because gravity pulls the gases in the atmosphere towards Earth's surface." Chad says quietly, his sudden participation making Keigo jump.

"I thought pressure is force over area? What's this mercury stuff then?" Mahana moans. "This isn't chemistry!"

"Atmospheric pressure is equivalent to 101 kilopascals which is the same as 760 millimetres of mercury." Kaori chirps, her glasses marking her as one of the teachers rather than laggers of this impromptu gathering.

"How does that even work?"

"One millimetre of mercury is the pressure of a column of mercury one millimetre high." Ryo adds, flipping her long black hair behind her back. "So atmospheric pressure is pretty heavy considering mercury is 13.6 times as dense as water."

"Wow…" "Woah…" "I guess this air is 760x13.6 times as heavy as water…" "I don't think that's right…"

"Why does it not crush us if it's so heavy?" Rukia asks curiously.

"Dunno, maybe because we grew up in it." Ichigo says.

He sits cross-legged, aggressively biting a cucumber that Yuzu had packed for him for lunch. Given the deep trench between his eyebrows, he probably doesn't even like cucumber, but also doesn't want to waste food or disappoint his little sister. Rukia snickers, hiding it as a cough when his head snaps up to glare at her.

"Are you okay, Kuchiki-san? Here, have some juice!" Chizuru passes a box of juice to Rukia who takes it and holds it with both reverence and caution. She examines it, prods it, and squeezes it, but can't seem to figure out how to drink it.

Ichigo sighs again, feeling suffering on her behalf. "Here," he holds his hand out, gesturing for her to give him the juice pack. "You put the straw in here." He takes the straw and stabs it through the silver foil, then holds the juice pack out to her.

Rukia takes the juice pack with a small 'I thank thou'. Ichigo snorts, keeping in character indeed.

The juice is sweet and sour, something that Rukia has never tasted before. It is cold yet flavourful, unlike the numbing nothingness of snow. She unconsciously sits straighter, every fibre of her being alerting to savour each gulp of liquid happiness in her mouth. She peeks at Ichigo who is still attacking the cucumber with his grumpy mug.

That night, Rukia dreams of Ichigo again. She doesn't remember what happens in the dream, but it leaves her heart feeling light and her mind full of his name. She's really been seeing too much of him lately.

—

"Oi, Rukia," Ichigo throws a pellet of scrunched paper at the girl sleeping on the desk behind his.

"Hmm?" Rukia hums drowsily, head ascending briefly before descending back down into her circle of arms.

This kid has been sleeping too consistently in class lately! Despite their chaotic beginning, Ichigo has grown used to her. Being a man of character, he extends his spine and sits tall, hiding her napping figure from the seeking eyes of Ochi-sensei. There is a limit to how long he can do it for though! He's going to get a back injury at this rate! It's been a week now, this is just ridiculous!

He only has a chance to glower at her at break time. There are shadows under her eyes and her face looks thinner than usual as if she's been studying the laws of physics too hard. Ichigo's eyes soften. Maybe he ought to give her some slack. He is, after all, a man of character.

"Ichigo!" Keigo bounces to him at the end of the day as he packs his bag. "Remember our yakiniku date tonight!"

"Don't be disgusting, who's gonna go date you?"

"Ahhh Mizuiro!" Keigo cries, catching onto the unfortunate Mizuiro and hanging off him like a koala. "Ichigo has become so cold!

"Get off me, Keigo," Mizuiro says coldly, before turning 180 degrees and smiling at a group of girls. "See you all there, ladies~"

"I'm off, see you guys later," Ichigo waves as Keigo reaches fruitlessly for his advancing back.

Today is his turn to buy groceries again. As he approaches the shop, he sees Rukia's small figure topping up trays with several cartons of vegetables. How does she get here so fast every time?

"Oi, Rukia," He calls out. Rukia turns in the direction of the sound and gives a small wave, then turns back to her work. Ichigo strolls towards her.

"You doing anything tonight?" He asks, leaning on the side of the trays. "Wanna come yakiniku with everyone?"

"Yakiniku, huh," She muses, unstopping in her movement. She is really quite efficient at this, the tray that was almost empty a moment ago is now almost full! "Not really."

"Come out with everyone from time to time," Ichigo says, eyes following her movements nonchalantly. "Don't be a lone wolf."

"Maybe next time," She says without fire. That's strange, normally she rebukes any slight insult with an insult ten times the potency. Slightly taken aback, Ichigo looks at her with mild concern.

"You— "

"I'm busy, Ichigo." Her eyes focus on him, a slight irritation in the large purple orbs. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She wheels her trolley of empty cartons away before he can say anything else. He looks back down and finds all the trays are topped up. While he hasn't been watching, she has even selected a few shiny, firm cucumbers and bagged them for him. He sighs, picking up the bag and continuing his shopping.

The yakiniku party that night is a great success. It seems like half the class is there, loud and cheerful and full of colour. Keigo brings out the alcohol he sneaked in and underaged drinking touches everyone, filling the warm room with drunken laughter and crazy antics. Ichigo's mood is incredibly high as he leaves the Yakiniku restaurant, no frustration in any of his limbs even as he peels the drunken Keigo off his arm for the third time on his way to drop him home.

Keigo's house is quite a distance away from his own. Ichigo has also had his fair share of alcohol and his mouth is currently feeling quite dry. He heads to the nearest convenience store, wanting to buy a bottle of water. On his way, he passes a small Izakaya with dimming lights. Even the miserable businessmen, who come straight after overtime to have a dreary drink or five, have mostly gone home. A small girl in an apron pushes past the bamboo blinds with several large bags in her hands and turns a corner. The owner's daughter helping out in the shop, perhaps.

Ichigo's stomach lurches out of nowhere. He gags and scans his surroundings in distress, seeking somewhere socially acceptable to release his stomach contents. He finds a dumpster and empties it there, not noticing the small feet standing a few meters away from him.

"Ichigo?" He hears someone calling his name.

He raises his head weakly in the direction of the voice. When their gazes connect, his eyes widen.

"Rukia?" He croaks, "What are you doing here?"

She wears a black apron over a white yukata, a strangely stylish combination if not for the rubbish bags in her hands. Oh, so it isn't the owner's daughter.

"You look like a mess," she laughs, a gentle sound in the quiet night where the only other noise is the black cat padding down the alley.

Ichigo feels his clammy face and neck heat up. How mortifying! He hasn't thrown up in front of a human since he was in kindergarten!

"You're chucking up on my boss' territory," She sniggers, eyes full of amusement.

"You work here? Aren't you working at the supermarket today?"

"That was evening shift. This is night shift." So there is indeed another shift that high school students can work without skipping school! Wait, is that even sustainable?

"You work both?"

"Only on weekdays. On weekends I work the day shift too."

That's just ridiculous, how do you even find time to sleep? No wonder you've been all hollow all week.

"Oh, you noticed?" Rukia chuckles. Ichigo's face warms further at the realisation that his thoughts have exited through his mouth. Alcohol is really good at loosening that end indeed. Maybe he won't touch that stuff in the future.

"Why do you work so much?" He wonders aloud.

"It's expensive living in Karakura City, you know," Rukia replied, leisurely laziness to her shape as she puts down her bags of garbage.

"You're here alone?"

"Yeah."

"What about your family?"

"They're back home."

"Where's 'home'?"

"You probably don't know where it is."

"What is it?"

"Inuzuri."

"Where's that?"

"You're really slow sometimes, you know?"

Ichigo pauses in his next question and glances up at her. There is an uncharacteristic quietness to her, almost melancholic in a way. Her eyes are large and black in the darkness of the night, like a secret, a new moon. Despite the dim light, her eyes seem to be wider, brighter, even though she doesn't have to open them so much right now.

"When do you get off work? I'll walk you home." Ichigo says, unpersuadable decision in his tone.

"If you so kindly insist," Rukia says, tossing her multiple garbage bags into the dumpster. "I'm finishing now. You can wait for me over there." She points in a direction behind her. "Unless...you want to stay here?" She glances at his wobbly leaning to the wall.

"I'll wait for you out there." He replies, moving his weight onto his feet and unsteadily walking past her, the back of his neck a strawberry red.

True to his word, he waits patiently for her outside the shop. They walk together in the quiet summer night, only their footsteps talking to each other. The moon is a small sliver today, its smile at its widest time of the month as it watches over their silence. The trees on the way home murmur to each other too, observing the pair with inquisitive interest. The world was waiting for the-one to make the first move.

"We're here," Rukia announces as they come to a stop in front of a small shed. "Thanks for accompanying me."

"It's fine," Ichigo scratches the back of his head since his hands feel too unoccupied otherwise. "Where do you live? I'll see you to your door."

"I'm right here." She points at the shed. "See you tomorrow."

"Here?" Ichigo considers the place. It certainly cannot be called a house. At most, it's a room for someone's gardening tools. "You live _here_?"

"Something wrong with that?" Rukia's eyes flash in warning as she rummages her bag for her keys.

"How much do you pay for this?"

"What, you looking down on poor people? I'll tell you—"

"Answer the question, Rukia."

Rukia stills, turning to face Ichigo with stern eyes. "Five hundred a week. Anything wrong with that, Ichigo?"

Ichigo's face is dark as he asks, "Who's your landlord?"

"His name is Aizen," Rukia answers, her voice a touch brighter as she discusses the person in question. "He's a kind man, offering me this place when I couldn't find anywhere else. He was even generous enough to give me a discount on my deposit."

"Rukia, this place is not worth five hundred a week. It's barely big enough to fit a bed. You might as well sleep in my closet."

Rukia's eyes blaze. Without warning, she stomps on Ichigo's foot with minimal restraint. He yelps in pain and indignation. "What was that for!"

"Ichigo, is this how you treat people who are poor?" She says. This time, Ichigo catches disappointment and sadness in her dark eyes before they narrow and turn away from him. She turns away from him. Her whole body turns away from him, leaving him looking at her small yet strong-looking back.

"No, Rukia, that's not what I meant." He scrambles. "Aizen is a thief. You shouldn't be paying this much for someone's garden shed." He grabs her shoulders and turns her around to face him, the alcohol in his body making his mouth babble in a fashion unlike his daytime self. "You can crash at my house. We can set up a spare bed in my sisters' room. My dad will accept rent if you insist. It's closer to school than here too—"

"Ichigo," she says.

"W-what?" Ichigo stutters.

She raises her head and looks into his eyes. Big, round, wet-looking orbs like marbles in a fish tank. He stares back, clueless to act. After a lingering second, she looks down, away, shrugs his hands off gently and takes a step back.

"I have a fiancée."

That night, Rukia dreams of sitting at a window with a balcony. Ichigo stands beneath it, wearing the same non-school uniform. Their hands reach towards each other, linking.

Rukia wakes with a longing ache in her heart.

* * *


	2. Inuzuri

_The dreams are daily._

_Where I could hold you as many times as I wanted, so often that I stopped counting._

_Where you smiled at me for a lifetime and after._

_Kissing the warm middle of my palm which held yours. Touching the length of my left arm which you held._

_You telling me you love me with that serious laughter in your voice._

_You make me want to practice smiling in the mirror._

* * *

_“W-Who’s that? Do you know him?”_

_“N...No.”_

_“D...Damn you!! Who tripped me!! Puo!! Puuooo?!”_

_“This way! Follow me! Unless you want to lose the water you’re holding?”_

_—_

_“Even though you behave like a man, you have this...gentle aura.”_

_“You’re pretty womanly yourself.”_

_“Hey!”_

_—_

_“It’s no use, he’s beyond saving.”_

_“Uooo...uoooo…” “Uooo…”_

_“No! I don’t believe it!! A-chan won’t die just like this! There has to be a way!”_

_—_

_“I don’t believe in miracles, only karma.”_

_“Be careful badmouthing what you can’t see~”_

_—_

_“Why does it matter? You’re still Rukia.”_

_“Thanks… for reminding me. For everything,”_

_—_

_“She’s gone, she’s gone and she will never be back again! She will never be back again!”_

_He snatched her small frame and held her as if to meld her into his chest. Her screams of grief were shattering, untamed as she beat her fists on his torso hard enough to form bruises._

_—_

_“Hisana was, and is, and will always be, my world.”_

_—_

_“Why do you have to go so far?” He exclaimed, body tense with the fear of loss and the frustration of incomprehension. “If you want to go to school, you can just go to the one in the closest city. You don’t have to go all the way to Karakura! That’s days away!”_

_“It is where I was born,” she said quietly. “I want to live for her, the life that she couldn’t live.”_

_—_

_“Rukia, stay with me for life.” He said as he took her hand and slipped the ring onto her slim finger. He had crafted it himself, ground and sanded from a brass screw. Its zealous beauty shone in the setting sun, as bright and brave as his vibrant red hair. His slightly tanned skin on her pale white. His broad fingers holding her small ones. They had lost so much already; all they had was each other now._

_“I promise to return to you, Renji.”_

* * *

It’s been two months since Rukia left.

Summer in Inuzuri was always excessively hot. And a bit stinky, since humans here defecated in corners like dogs and dogs here in summer tended to mate like humans. The warmer the air, the more easily the smells moved. And don’t even speak of the toilets — this was also the time when food spoiled ten times faster than usual and most people would have rings of fire for assholes days-on-end as their undigested stomach juice comes out the other end like tourist-worthy geysers. Oh Rukia, it is so especially bad this year, even Byakuya had to drink rice water for a whole week.

Renji was a crude man by nature. A masculine man who feared nothing, who was gruff, but honest. An Inuzuri man born and bred! This village was a simple place, no person other than Byakuya really had enough brain cells to scheme or plot or whatever, and Byakuya hadn’t been interested in anything for a while now.

The Kuchiki household raised a few chickens. Rukia’s chickens. Renji came to check up on them everyday since Byakuya wasn’t really up for it. The chickens definitely didn’t like him as much as they liked Rukia. They always used to flap so joyously when Rukia came to feed them and ate so enthusiastically every time. Now that it’s Renji’s job, they would turn their beaks away in a way that reminded Renji of Rukia folding her arms and huffing in response to something unpleasant. They would even peck his hands full of red marks when he would attempt to shove them into the feeding tray. It wasn’t even about buttering up the future brother-in-law; in reality, he had been buttering Byakuya for a whole decade already and Byakuya was still as dry as a stone. A smooth stone, much like the altar of his late wife that was all he paid attention to nowadays.

If even Renji, a large muscle who was generally unable to appreciate the finer subtleties, could tell that Byakuya was not doing well, then Byakuya was definitely probably not doing that well.

Sometimes he really wanted to yell at Byakuya, but he would spontaneously recall the visage of Byakuya in his prime, the time before Hisana and Rukia had appeared. Renji was just a kid back then, but he could still remember it with astounding clarity. Back then, he used to call Byakuya ‘boss’. The glare of Byakuya’s bright eyes as he slashed down (with a wooden stick) wave after wave of delinquents from the other streets who dared to defecate on their territory. The volatile youth that would not tolerate any shaming and would make the opposition regret even the thought of preying on easy-looking meat. The cool young man who shielded the toddler from the hooligans but wouldn’t verbalise a single word to her even as she trailed after him like an ant. The male who finally found the definition for the last F of adrenaline when he met the toddler’s sister for the first time. Of course, some of the above Renji had only realised much, much later, around the same time he found his own definition for the last F of adrenaline.

One day, Renji couldn’t hold it anymore and asked in exasperation, “Why did you have to send her that far away?”

A flicker of light appeared in Byakuya’s dead-fish eyes, then disappeared again. “I didn’t.”

“You can’t be telling me she just decided on her own.”

“She did.” He responded, quite lifeless.

“Byakuya…” Renji clenched his fist behind his back. Sometimes he really wanted to beat some sense into him, but he also valued his own life. “Why don’t you tell her that you miss her? Tell her to come back.”

“Renji, you are very good to Rukia,” Byakuya said from the cushion in front of Hisana’s altar (the cushion that Renji the good future brother-in-law/lackey/friend fashioned from a sea-sponge as Byakuya the widow was adamant on ruining his knees and Renji couldn’t have that on his watch). “But do you know what is good for her?”

“What kind of question is that?” Renji almost threw his hands up in the air. This was a bit too philosophical for his simple personality.

“When we are fighting, there are two kinds of fights. The fight to protect lives, and the fight to protect pride.”

“I know that, isn’t that what Ukitake drilled into us? Rukia’s not even fighting now, she’s at _school_.”

Under normal circumstances Byakuya would have glared a few daggers at him, but the current him was placid to everything. Renji would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t enjoying being ‘insolent’. Under normal circumstances, he would barely dare to question Byakuya’s spit, let alone his meaningful life lessons.

“Did Rukia tell you how she and Hisana came to be in this village?”

“Dunno, Rukia’s always said she was too young to remember.”

“Perhaps I ought to tell you, so you will understand.” Byakuya slowly turned to fix his gaze on Renji. Renji involuntarily swallowed — he had always been frightened by the intensity of Byakuya’s gaze. As Byakuya recounted the events of the past, the fog over his eyes seemed to fade, as if he was looking at the moon...

* * *

“...The fight for life is to survive, but if pride is to die, then are we really different from dogs?”

* * *


	3. Cicada cries

_What thanks is sufficient for the gift of life?_

—

“I’m off, Manager,” Rukia calls as she removes her apron and pulls off the hair ties and clips keeping her hair in tiny twin ponytails. She has barely enough hair to manage into such a shape, but Manager likes it this way. No, that sounds creepy. Manager likes this hairstyle on girls. No, that sounds quite bad too. Manager prefers this hairstyle? No…

The owner of the Izakaya is a tall blonde man with a receding hairline. He is the one that pays Rukia the most out of her many part-time jobs; more than double of the others, in fact. It might seem too good to be true, but Rukia’s gut feeling tells her this man will not hurt her, and her gut feeling has always been accurate. Perhaps growing up in the gutter amongst dogs and rats has its benefits after all — nothing sharpens your senses like fighting for food with beasts that can bite you and vermin that can steal the food you have only just been bitten for.

On the fateful night of their meeting, she had marched into the Izakaya, rainwater trailing behind her in drops of determination and desperation. She was still in her convenience store uniform, the weight of Renji’s letter heavy in her pocket. Byakuya was ill, very ill. He barely ate anything each day, kneeling in front of Hisana’s altar for hours extending into days. He would sit in front of her until his collapse, upon which Renji would carry his unconscious body back to bed as he was a stubborn man, unyielding while awake. Renji had written in such eloquent words that Rukia would suspect forgery if she wasn’t so acquainted with his scrawly handwriting. Rukia understood; she was the last piece of Hisana remaining in this world. Perhaps her presence would ease his pain at least a little.

This balding blonde man was the only one who could let her start work immediately. She had already gone to many restaurants and shops closer to her apartment, which either had no vacancies, not enough hours or wanted trials and interviews that she had no time for. Being able to find resources had always been her strength, and now, it was her only redeeming trait. She ached to get on the bus to Inuzuri, sprint to Byakuya’s side and protect him… and yet, what was she protecting him from? Some fights were to protect lives, but some fights were to protect pride. Rukia knew with certainty that Byakuya would blame himself forever if she were to abandon her path for his momentary comfort. What she could do was to send money back home, so they could live in more comfort, have cleaner food and water, maybe even medicine if there were notes to spare. Rukia was no stranger to struggle — after all, whatever excess the Kuchiki had during the past few years had all been spent on maintaining Hisana’s life. She could starve a little bit. She could handle it. She could carry the family’s livelihood if Byakuya’s grief was too heavy for him to hold on to anything else.

“Why did you hire me?” Rukia had asked towards the end of a shift as she mopped up an intoxicated customer’s vomit with a cloth and her bare hands. “You pay me so much, but I don’t even have to work that hard.” This customer had a tongue for spice and had ingested a decent amount of chilli oil, colouring the semisolid a bright orange. She squeezed the substance into a cobalt blue plastic bucket, creating a blinding, dizzying, stomach-turning contrast. Rukia didn’t bat a single eyelash.

‘...I’m concerned about what you do at your other jobs.” Manager thought to himself. He chose not to verbalise this and instead chuckled. “You remind me of my little sister.”

“How so?”

“You’re the same height.”

“..."

“Can you tie your hair up like her too?”

Rukia was confident that he was messing with her. Oh well, she does owe him for the opportune work. It’s not like she will lose any organs by putting on hair accessories.

“Careful on the way home, Rukia-chan.” Manager says, counting the day’s cash with languid flips of his long fingers. “There’s been reports of children disappearing lately.”

Rukia sighs, lethargy all over her face. “Worry not, Manager. I am quite grown.”

“I’m serious, there might be a serial kidnapper out there!”

“Okay, okay.” The downside of making too many lame jokes is that people don’t want to take you seriously, ever. “I’ll be careful.”

“Should I call a friend for you? That orange boy from last week?”

“It’s fine, it’s just a short walk.”

“Rukia-chan…”

“Why are you so insistent today? Is someone beating me up because you owe them money?”

“How cruel, Rukia-chan! I am merely concerned for the safety of my most hardworking staff member!”

“Hmph.” Rukia crosses her arms, a flush spreading across her nose bridge as the corners of her mouth involuntarily lift. “Thank you for your concern. I don’t have his phone number, though.” Nor does she have anyone else’s phone number, unfortunately.

“Aw, that’s a shame.”

“What?”

“It’s a good thing to have friends, Rukia-chan.”

“...I’ll be on my way now.”

Rukia flips past the bamboo curtains before the blonde man can object further. “Well-meaning old men with nothing to do,” she mutters.

The walk back to her apartment is uneventful. Cicadas call for mates at outrageous volumes, simple-minded creatures with no worries for the future. Exams are coming up soon and Rukia needs to study, but she has so little time. Perhaps she ought to take up Ichigo’s closet offer after all? She smiles, remembering his dumb face and stupid rambling. Even if she’s being overcharged, it doesn’t change the fact that Aizen is one who extended the helping hand at her most desolate time. Thanks to his blessing, she has only needed to camp outside for a week. She is not a person that can live happily without paying back her debts.

Unanticipated generosity, selfless kindness, immeasurable sacrifice. For some debts, she will gladly continue to pay for her whole life.

—

The cicada’s song is not just for calling mates; it is also to warn for nearby predators.

There is another sizeable garden shed on Rukia’s street, located a few houses before her home. She passes it every day on her way back from the Izakaya. Its exterior is painted a lovely white colour and its walls are lined with little clay pots holding colourful flowers. The flowers are never wilted, always well-nourished and watered by the old lady living across the road. As Rukia approaches the shed, she notices some of the pots are tipped over. Strange, it isn’t windy tonight. Rukia decides to be a good citizen of the community and fix this issue! Everyone has to have a part in maintaining the environment, right?

She squats down and lifts the first pot off its side. A small pool of liquid lies under it and wets her hands. She almost wipes them on her pants before remembering that her clothes are no longer rags and people in the city care about dirt on their coverings. She shakes them instead to remove the excess. As she does this, the moonlight catches on her palms and shows her that the liquid on her hands is a dark, inky red.

Rukia stills. She can recognise that colour from anywhere. The same as what seeped out of Hisana onto rolls of cloth washed too often to retain their original colour.

“Mmph!”

Rukia’s heart pounds as her eyes flick to the door. That sound came from behind it. As silently as she can, she rises to a half squatting position. Her hand is cold as she wraps it around the doorknob. She twists. It gives with a slight squeak. She pulls the door open by a tiny margin, then opens it wide.

Two young girls. One with black hair, one with brown hair. Ankles tied. Forced to sit back to back by a coarse yellow rope. A fat piece of black tape covers each of their mouths. Eyes screaming.

Rukia doesn’t pause. She strides inside and crouches down. Before they can tense in caution, she takes the face of the closest girl and starts peeling the tape off with as much steadiness as she can.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” She repeats again and again as she frees the mouth of the black-haired girl and starts on the other. “I’m going to untie you. Can you guys tell me who you are?”

The black-haired girl gasps like a newborn as soon as the tape comes off. She coughs and gags then retches a fan of dark green liquid onto the ground. Rukia rips off the tape on the other girl, sweat covering her forehead as the first girl continues to vomit uncontrollably.

“Untie us!” The brown-haired girl cries in a breaking voice, both eyes and mouth wide and red. “Untie us!!”

Rukia can’t see the knot. She looks around desperately for something sharp. She sees the flower pot at the entrance and smashes it hard on to the ground. Rukia snatches the largest broken piece and begins hacking at the dirty rope. She bashes the hard edge on her hands and wrists multiple times in her haste. As long as the red splatters are not from the kids.

“Almost there, almost there,” she prays. The tremor in her hands is unrelenting,

The rope comes apart and the girls fall forwards. The brown-haired girl catches herself on her elbows but the black-haired girl lands forehead first on the concrete. The sound of retching disappears.

“Karin-chan!” The brown-haired girl yells, spinning and grabbing the other girl’s shoulders. “Karin-chan!!”

Rukia slots herself in front of Karin as the brown-haired girl peels her off the ground. She opens Karin’s mouth and confirms she is breathing and has not inhaled her own bile. She rotates and moves Karin’s head so Karin’s cheek is touching her ear and grabs at Karin’s limp hands.

“Put her on my back!” Rukia exclaims.

“Call Onii-chan!” The girl sobs as she helps Rukia hold onto Karin’s thighs. “We need to call him!”

“This isn’t the time!” Rukia snaps.

“Call him! Please!” The girl weeps, the grimace on her face splitting into an even more heart-wrenching expression while tears marble down her dirt-marred face.

“Okay, okay! I promise!” Rukia gently grabs the girl’s hand. “But save it for later, we can’t stay here, okay?”

Rukia holds the brown-haired girl’s hand with one hand and holds one of the black-haired girl’s legs with the other. She takes them past the door into the open summer night where cicadas are screaming their loudest. Where does she take them now? Certainly not her own house down the street; what if the person that did this to them is still around? She isn’t confident in fighting the tactics of the city people. To the Izakaya? Too far, but good enough. Holding the girl’s hand with a vice-like grip, she takes them as fast as she can in that direction, reaching the main road where road lights are bright and cars are numerous even at this time of the night. Where can she find a large group of people to hide in at this time?! Rukia curses under her breath. She wishes she can call for the help of her friends. Oh wait, she can call the police! She has a cellphone!

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and throws it into the brown-haired girl’s hand. “Call the police!”

“I can’t do that! They will know!”

“What are you talking about?!”

“He said I can’t call the police if I want Onii-chan to be safe! We have to warn Onii-chan!” The girl flips open the phone and presses a chain of buttons before Rukia can snatch it back. The call connects almost immediately. “Hello?” A frantic, painfully familiar voice says.

“Onii-chan, it’s me, Yuzu!”

“Yuzu!! Where are you?! Are you okay? I’m com-”

Several things happen at once. Karin’s leg falls from Rukia’s slippery grip and she tumbles to the ground with a soft thud. Yuzu drops the phone in alarm and rushes towards Karin. Rukia’s peripheral vision catches the motorcycle with unlit lights speeding towards them. She pushes the girls out of the way in the split second before the collision.

A young scream pierces the cold night air.

* * *


	4. Paralleling

_Only the weak and the cowardly will let themselves be swept by what they presume to be the wish of the universe._

* * *

_“Have lots of towels ready,” the junior doctor had said, trying his earnest best to convey his knowledge of what was to come in a way that would be most easily received by the family. He may have said much more, in a much more tactful way, but this sentence was all that stuck with Rukia. His eyes carried a heaviness more than a doctor’s empathy, more than the sympathy for a dying patient. He had pushed his bleached blonde bangs out of the way to make proper eye contact with his patient, but nothing can prepare you for the face of death. When there is the impending gloom of tragedy, and change, and release, all that is human will be affected in a very human way. Sometimes, all we can do is be human. And sometimes, to share the burden of that moment, that was enough._

_“This is a number to call if you have any needs regarding medication. We will be here at any time to help you be comfortable.” The tall silver-haired pharmacist had said, her hands trembling a tiny bit as she unconsciously bit her lips. She was also young and inexperienced, and meant her best, and wanted to be helpful. In this moment though, her sterile, professional words did nothing to cover her humanity. She was sad for them, sad with them. And that was enough._

_“Is there anything else we can do for you in the meantime?”_

_“Can we drive by the river?” She had smiled, weakly but contentedly. Byakuya held her hand on one side and squeezed gently. Her head turned slowly towards him, her eyes full of affection and adoration._

_“Yes, we can,” the bald man had gritted out after a moment of composing himself, voice thick and fists clenched and eyes blinking furiously. The gruff paramedic that everyone admired, that was brave and courageous and restarted hearts and delivered babies and saved lives. This was not a life that was his to save. Sometimes his job may only be to drive the ambulance back to their home around the scenic route. Just a driver, just a human. And that was fine, that was enough._

_She arrived at home and went to sleep in the arms of her love. The red liquid was no longer seeping out of her endlessly as it had been before. She went to sleep, and then, she transcended the stars._

* * *

A tear fell from the corner of Rukia’s right eye, landing in the nest of her hair and disappearing, never to be seen.

Not far to her right was a window and a wall. To her left was an empty space. There wasn't much she could see by only shifting her eyes, but her neck was as stiff as a board and refused to move. She blinked blearily, squinting in the sun-brightened room.

It was not her own room for sure. The ceiling was much higher for one, and none of her belongings were around. Unless she had gotten evicted? How long had she been sleeping? Yes she was slightly behind on rent, but surely her bond could be used to cover at least a little bit? The sunlight shone through the thin mesh curtains, it's glow warming her body through the clean white sheets on top of her. It was too hot. She wanted to leave her skin. 

“You're finally awake!” A young voice squeaked.

Rukia attempted to turn her torso in the direction of the sound. On the slightest twist, she was struck with a pain so severe that made her grit her teeth to stop herself from yelping. It was a purely physical pain, to a degree that she had never experienced before. The sharpness of it made her hold onto her breath, but this put pressure on her abdomen and that too was painful. The pain intensified the burning and she wanted to escape from the fire into the sea. It was too hot, too much, too suffocating. She slipped back into blissful unconsciousness before the sound of footsteps could reach her.

The next time Rukia opened her eyes, the room was dim, embraced by the orange glow of twilight. From her flat lying position, she saw the periwinkle sky meet the edges of the red horizon and the browning leaves of trees immersed in the fading light. The evening air was cool and fresh, a very light breeze floating in through the slightly open window. Her apartment did not have such a large window. 

“Where am I?” She croaked, voice sounding like she had swallowed a cup of sand. 

“You're at our clinic,” a voice to her left said. 

Rukia would have jumped if she was physically capable. Gingerly, she twisted her head anticlockwise to face the source of the sound. 

“Yo,” Ichigo said, peeling an apple with a fruit knife.

He was sitting on a stool level with the bed she was lying on. There was a nightstand next to him that sat against the head of her bed. Some distance behind him was a wide empty space, and behind it, blank walls leading to an open door. He was looking straight at her face, but he was vertical while she was horizontal. It was kind of funny; she had not seen his face from this angle before, and he looked as constipated as ever. 

“You...Ichigo?”

“Yeah. Our family operates an urgent care clinic.”

“Why am I...here?”

Ichigo’s hands stopped on the apple. For a second Rukia was worried that he had cut his hand. 

“Why, you say…You don’t remember?”

“Remember...” Rukia pondered, then gasped and attempted to sit up. The abrupt movement exacerbated whatever was hurting her and her eyes squeezed shut, a hiss forcing its way past her lips. She felt a hand on her shoulder gently push her back down, supported by another hand flat on her upper back. There was a warmth above her that was absent just before. It was a pleasant, airy warmth, like a large cat’s acceptance, the radiating heat of another human’s body temperature. She wanted to lean into it, but the hand on her shoulder was stronger and kept her pressed down. “Where are they? The two girls?” She rasped through short puffs of breaths.

“They're fine, thanks to you,” Ichigo replied, a barely noticeable softness to his voice. This was her first time hearing him speak in this tone, and the first time seeing him with this open, calm expression. His brows were almost smooth, his mouth relaxed, and his brown eyes held a warm tenderness in them that she recognised as the same as what would appear in Byakuya’s eyes on certain impressionable days. He was still holding her down by the shoulder. 

“Let me sit up,” she eyed his hand.

“You probably shouldn't.”

“Why?”

“It'll hurt.”

Rukia was never one to back down from a challenge. Much like many of the people she grew up amongst, she was also a stubborn fool. She had been beaten up plenty of times in the streets of Inuzuri (by fists and sticks), collided multiple times by carriages (non-automated), and fallen off many roofs (though the roofs in Inuzuri were not as high as the roofs in Karakura). Nothing had yet to break her. Renji had always said it was because she was a midget and did not have much surface area to hit. Hisana was much better at the art of complimenting and had assured her that it was her agility that helped her avoid the worst of the impacts. She was always worried though, a concerned crease in her brows every time Rukia limped home with scratches and a great big grin behind the jug of water that she had...borrowed. Hisana didn't like it when Rukia got hurt, and towards the end Rukia didn't want to do anything that Hisana didn't like. The requisition duty went to Renji instead, the constant freeloader at their home who was Byakuya’s only remaining underling from his pre-husband days. Not that Hisana liked seeing Renji hurt; it was just hard to see a lot of things on Renji’s heavily tattooed body.

Rukia wanted to scoff at Ichigo’s comment. Her pain tolerance would surely be much higher than that of a city boy’s! She gave a tiny nudge with her shoulder to signal for him to release, but his grip remained. She nudged again, this time a little harder. Ichigo’s grip on her shoulder seemed to waver, then tightened again. She frowned. 

“I didn't know you had interests of this kind, Ichigo,” she sighed dramatically. 

“W-what?” His grip on her shoulder wavered again. 

“It's fine to have fantasies as a growing boy, but I'm afraid I am already a plucked flower. Or does that strike you fancy?” She glanced up at him, batting her long eyelashes exaggeratedly. 

“What? No! I didn't as—no! I don't! What the heck are you thinking?!”

“Hmm, you're surprisingly innocent for a high-school-aged male. This isn't what my resources have taught me.”

“What resources? What are you talking about?”

“You know,” she smiled mysteriously and made a come-hither motion with her hand. Ichigo stared at her hand with suspicion, then tentatively moved his ear towards her. She cupped one hand over her mouth and whispered something into his ear.

His face lit on fire and he jumped away immediately. “What the—what—what!”

“Then let me go! What are you holding me down for!”

“I'm telling you it’ll hurt!”

“It was just a motorbike!”

“J-just?!” Ichigo looked at her incredulously. Just what did this kid get up to in her spare time?!

Rukia shrugged his hand off with one smooth movement and began lifting herself up from the bed. Her abdominal muscles felt like they were dripping in acid. She managed to elevate halfway before tiring and dropping her weight on to her left elbow. Suddenly, a throbbing pain exploded on the left side of her torso. She grimaced, face draining of colour as a thin sheet of sweat formed on her forehead almost instantly. 

“I told you!”

“What...happened...to me?” Rukia wheezed, finding she could not take deep breaths.

“The motorbike that hit you fractured three ribs, Rukia. You're already pretty lucky it was just that,” Ichigo muttered. “Take it easy for six weeks.”

“Six weeks?!” Rukia’s outcry was as if he had just insulted her firstborn. “Are you for real?! I can't stay still for six weeks!

“Calm down. You can still go to school.” Relief appeared on Rukia’s face and Ichigo could already tell what she was thinking. “But no labour-intensive exercise.” He emphasised every word as if he was talking to a little kid. “An example is carrying and lifting heavy things,” he said pointedly.

Rukia glowered and said nothing. It wasn't like Ichigo would be there to surveil her. She would give her thanks, pay her dues, get out of here and go to work. When she was very young, she and Hisana had shared a pile of hay with a female dog that had recently given birth and was nursing puppies. She grew up drinking the milk of that dog. The dog milk gave her a strong body. She had strong bones. She would be fine. 

The pain had finally faded to a manageable level. Taking care not to put pressure on her left rib cage, Rukia pushed herself into a sitting position, her sore abdomen complaining in exertion. Her back leaned heavily against the headboard as she struggled to not whimper in the presence of her classmate. At a glance to the nightstand on her left, she saw a dainty glass vase with a single yellow flower inside it. Next to the flower was a small white plate with a half-peeled apple on it. Her eyes moved to Ichigo and almost laughed. He was sitting on the stool again, and under the dim light of the setting sun, his hair was the perfect in-between colour of the flower and the apple skin.

Ichigo seemed bemused at why she was grinning. He wore the same expression as one that she saw on Renji’s and Byakuya’s faces many years ago, when she had hit her head against a tree while escaping from a small gang. Those were fonder, happier days. Rukia’s breathing gradually returned to normal, laying her hands down in her lap as her body relaxed again. 

“Thanks for helping them, Rukia.”

She looked down at her folded hands. “It's what anyone would have done.”

“No, it's not.”

“What, wouldn't you have done the same?” Her head flicked up, large eyes fixing on his. 

“Just accept, you stubborn…” Ichigo sighed. “Anyway, thank you. A lot. We owe you.” He looked into her eyes with uncharacteristic seriousness. She didn’t even know him that well though, how could she say if it was uncharacteristic or not? She was getting ahead of herself.

“You're welcome,” she said, looking away. “How are they?”

Rukia could hear the sound of his fists clenching without looking. “Yuzu is...at home." Rukia noticed how he deliberately didn't say 'okay' or 'fine'. "Karin is…” He muffled a curse. “Bastards, if I could get my hands on them, then I...”

“What happened to Karin?” Rukia asked in morbid apprehension. 

“Had to take her to the hospital yesterday. Yuzu said they kicked her until she passed out. Think it ruptured her appendix.”

Rukia’s eyes widened as a flare of anger lit up within her. How could people be so cruel? They were such little kids! “How is she now?”

“Stable. They're keeping her in for a few days under observation.”

This could only mean that her injuries were worse than a ruptured appendix. Rukia glanced at Ichigo. His brows were knitted together again and his eyes were dark, stormy and frustrated. Rukia had seen the same look in Byakuya’s eyes when Hisana’s prognosis was revealed to them. The eyes of someone cursing their powerlessness.

“What kind of big brother am I,” Ichigo gritted, glaring intensely at a spot on the ground. “I can't even protect them. What the hell have I been doing…”

Rukia felt a pang in her chest unrelated to her cracked ribs. She reached out with her left hand, intending on giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Before her hand could touch him, his own flew out and caught it. He held her wrist and looked up at her. His hold was a little tight, his hand a little cold, pressure and temperature that did not blend into her skin and seamlessly disappear. His eyes were wide, like a feral cat in the middle of the night. He did not let go. 

“It's not your fault,” she murmured honestly. “None of it is your fault.”

He searched her eyes for a lie. Rukia looked on genuinely, openly, not averting her gaze. After a moment, he released her wrist. Rukia withdrew it, itching to rub at it but holding herself back. He probably didn't intend on grabbing her aggressively like that. The space between them took on an air of awkwardness. 

“Good thing your family has a clinic, to take care of her.”

“Yeah.”

She could reassure him that everything would be okay. She could promise that the ones who hurt them would receive their rightful punishment. She could even tell him that this would never happen again. But that would all be lies. Humans could not predict the future. The good guy didn't always win. Some things would not be explained even beyond our moment of death. She would only tell him what she knew was true. She would not mislead him or give him false comfort in the colour of white lies. That would surely be a punishment for him too. 

“Good thing your fever went down, or we might have sent you to the hospital too,” Ichigo said to break the tension in the air. 

“Oh,” Rukia said. Sure enough, she didn't feel disoriented and uncomfortable the way she had when she woke up the previous time.

“You're very anaemic, you know. My dad was looking for an internal bleed for a pretty long time.”

“Sorry to trouble him."

“Are you stupid?” Ichigo chuckled.

Rukia’s lips curled upwards too.

The sun was almost gone now. The last remaining light was only a sliver at the horizon. Rukia shivered; she did not look forward to the journey home in the dark. Despite her multitude of adventurous experiences, she was still just a 15-year-old girl. The thought of that white shed made a chill travel up her spine. 

“Ichigo...” Rukia murmured, suspiciously shiny eyes unguardedly looking up towards Ichigo's hair. She hated asking people for help. “Can you... walk me back home?”

“HELL NO!!”

“???” 

Ichigo’s eyebrows were knit tightly together and his trademark scowl was fully in position. “You're not going back to that place. You're not even cleared to go anywhere!”

“I'm fine! I need to go home and water my flowers!”

“ _I'll_ go water your flowers! Stay here for now and rest. We will find you another place to live. That neighbourhood is dangerous.”

“What do you mean you find me… I—I can take care of myself!”

“I know that, but this is what's going to happen. You have no say.” He had the nerve to stick his tongue out, the infuriating bastard. 

“You...you…” Rukia started. “You obstinate tyrannical man!” She managed. 

“Obstinate or not, tyrannical or not, you're staying here until you're cleared to be running around. You can say whatever you like about me, but I am a man that won't let a debt go unpaid.” What a testament to his character that he didn’t get mad at her and give the classic ‘I’m trying to help you’! He still looked pretty mad though! Why was he mad at her for this?

“Why do you look so mad though!”

“I'm not mad!” He looked mad. 

“I don't need you to pay a debt! I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I'm sorry I made Yuzu wait to call you, it wasn't the time!”

“You think I'm mad about that?”

“How do I know what you're thinking?”

She looked so small in that instant. Ichigo sighed, figure relaxing slightly as his face softened just a tiny bit. “You know, you have no issues when it comes to giving for nothing in return, but you're really bad at receiving things. Why can't you just let it go for once?”

Rukia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had a point, he really did. Rukia recognised this to some extent. But she had always lived by it, because that was the way it was. No one else had said it was _wrong_ or anything. Is it not good to be selfless? To be generous and kind? The world is so lacking in generosity and kindness. 

“Sometimes people can be so selfless that they end up hurting themselves,” Ichigo said as if reading her mind. “You're not alone, Rukia. You always act all proud and cool like an anime hero shouldering the whole world’s burdens. You should trust people from time to time.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “And by trust, I don't mean people like Aizen.”

His tone held a hidden message. Trust him; he wouldn't betray her. She felt a lump form in her throat as her nose started to burn. He really didn’t owe her anything, and here he was, encouraging her in his rough unrefined way, words so untactful but so straightforward. He could have been at the hospital with his sister, someone who shared his blood, and here he was, peeling an apple. Who knew how long he had been sitting there already? She did not ask, to save him his pride. She had missed this. The city was so complicated, people always seemed to talk in circles and you could never take what you hear at face value. This awkward person almost reminded her of the happier times at home.

...Or maybe she was overthinking. Being too idealistic and conceited. Why would Ichigo care? He was a good guy, she’d give that to him. But he barely knew her. Aside from saving his sisters and getting hit by a vehicle on the way, what else has she done for him? Why would he go out of his way for her? What was that about saving the world? Was her facade of being a normal city high school student not convincing? 

“Oh and don't even think about going to your part-time jobs. I've told them you're bedridden at the hospital for the next two months. Get a good rest. Why do you have so many jobs anyway, do you even sleep?” He was grumbling towards the end. 

“How did you—who told you where I worked?” To her knowledge, he only knew her from the supermarket and the izakaya. Surely he didn’t know of her other three jobs too?

“That blonde dude from the izakaya told me. He had your list of references all ready when I got there for some reason,” he muttered. “Maybe he owes money to the guy that hit you.”

What Ichigo did not tell her, was that his first official greeting to her dearest manager had been a punch in the face, followed by a threatening collar grab asking if he had anything to do with the accident. Good old Manager had taken it like a man and did nothing to provoke Ichigo further. He had even seemed relieved that Ichigo was there since he was Rukia's 'good friend'. He had been the one that had asked Ichigo to notify all of Rukia’s employers of her incident. 

Maybe he did owe money indeed. Oh well, she wouldn't know any time soon. Ichigo didn’t look like the type of bodyguard that would be lenient. Perhaps she could escape from the window to go to work? She glanced up towards it. It didn’t look too high.

“Why would you do this for me?” She asked, genuinely wanting to know.

Ichigo looked away, the darkening of his cheeks barely noticeable in the dark blue evening. He cleared his throat purposefully. “Don't take this the wrong way,” he muttered, tone almost bashful. Rukia stilled in anticipation.

He mumbled a string of sentences too quietly for Rukia to understand. Rukia’s eyebrow twitched. 

“What?”

He mumbled the sentence again, but she could still not interpret him.

“Whaaaaaat?”

“I SAID, you remind me of my sister Karin, always so stubborn, likes to argue, and tries to appear strong! You should learn to rely on people from time to time!” He yelled, his whole face darker as if he had just spilt his innermost secret.

Rukia’s heart dropped for some unknown reason. “Oh,” she replied, the momentary brightness from an emotion that she had yet to put a name to fading from her eyes.

Ichigo glared at her. If he was a manga character, then he would surely be decorated with puffs of air coming out of his nostrils to signify the respiratory effort of his earlier outburst. He seemed to be waiting for a response. 

“I see,” Rukia responded. 

“Good!” He stood, the abrupt movement causing the chair to squeak against the floor. “Get some rest, yell out if you need. Yuzu will bring dinner soon.” He marched out of the room before she could say anything else. 

That's right, how was Yuzu doing? Rukia hasn't asked about her yet. Guilt hit Rukia as she realised that the poor girl must have seen the motorcycle send her flying. She hoped she wasn't traumatised. 

Rukia did not end up escaping through the window that night. She had the best sleep she's had in over a month.

But still, she dreamed. 

* * *


	5. Happy days

_For every moment that we live in joy, joy lives in us._

— 

“Onii-chan, remember to buy some beef on the way home!”

“I got it!” Ichigo grumbled as he slipped on his shoes. Rukia was already outside inhaling the morning dew like an excited baby bird. Sometimes it amazed him how much energy she had in the morning. Must be to do with the countryside lifestyle, no preservatives and shit.

Today was a muggy day. A cottony layer of fog floated in the humid air. Luckily Ichigo got his hair genes from his mother’s side; she had luxuriously strong hair that held its ground no matter what weather conditions. Rukia did not have such luck; her hair was already sticking up like a poorly trimmed hedge.

She didn’t seem to care so much for her appearance though. Other girls in his class would be fussing with hair oils by now. But this kid, this Rukia kid, she caught a reflection of herself in a window and gave it a lame thumbs up. She was becoming more like his dad every day…

(He thought high school girls were supposed to be sugar and spice and all things nice dammit, not like an old man in a standup comedy. Was it all a lie!?)

“Come on, Ichigo! Where is your youthful energy?” She called with such tiresome vitality.

“Shut up, it’s Saturday,” he called back lethargically. He didn’t understand why he had to get up so early on his precious weekend to get vegetables from the Farmer’s Market. What’s wrong with the grocery store?

“You don’t understand, Ichigo!” Rukia had declared half an hour ago, standing before his horizontal body with her hands on her hips as he pulled his pillow over his head to avoid the sabre of light coming through the rudely opened curtains. “The nutrition content in food has decreased drastically in the last one hundred years! Don’t you want to live long and healthy? Don’t you know how important it is to have a well-balanced diet with plenty of vitamins and minerals!? The fresher the produce, the better!”

“Go chug a multivitamin or something,” he drawled from beneath the pillow.

“I don’t like medicines,” she said.

“It’s fine, vitamins aren’t allowed to call themselves medicines. OW!”

“Get up, Ichigo!” She yelled, her foot slammed onto his backside. “Get your ass out of bed and do something productive with your ass!”

“Can you stop with the ass stuff? Stop talking about ass all the time, it’s not how a lady should act! Don’t you learn this stuff from your manga?”

“To mourn a mischief that is past and gone is the next way to draw new mischief on.”

“Don’t use Shakespeare out of context!”

“Come _on_ , Ichigo.” There it was, Ichigo recognised this tone as the hairs on his back stood up in aversion like even they were trying to get away from the sickly sweet sound. “You _said_ that _weak little girls_ like _me_ shouldn’t go around carrying _heavy things_ like _ripoff waterlogged lettuce_. Isn’t that what you told my boss at Day Day Fresh Fresh?”

“You’re still hung up about that?” Ichigo said incredulously. “It’s your boss’ fault for spraying so much water on vegetables! Why do I have to pay for the weight of water that I can’t even use? What kind of person calls their shop Day Day Fresh Fresh anyway? Isn’t Day Fresh enough?”

“Shunsui-san is a great guy!” Rukia exclaimed. “He understands the value of water! You’re the one that doesn’t know how to use the water on a sprayed lettuce!”

“Stop kidding yourself Rukia, it’s just to make the lettuce look better!”

“Haven’t you heard of what morning dew is?!”

“What are you two arguing about so early in the morning?”

They both turned towards the door. Karin stood there in her pyjamas, yawning and scratching her back. “You’re going to wake the whole house.”

“Sorry, Karin,” Rukia chuckled sheepishly, “Ichigo and I are getting ready to go to the Farmer’s Market. Do you want anything?”

“Hey, I didn’t say I’ll go!”

“Can you guys get some apples? Yuzu used them all baking pies.”

“Hey! Karin!”

“Certainly!” Rukia said.

“Hey! I said hey!”

Ichigo yawned as he trailed after Rukia’s enthusiastically fast strides. Maybe it was a mistake not letting her go to work. She had as much energy as a kid high on sugar. Almost made him miss those quiet peaceful times when she was falling asleep in class. Is this her normal, unfatigued state? What did she eat growing up? Was she breastfed by the goddess of war?

Sad though; he hadn’t even found her this annoying at their first meeting, so she had probably been working too inhumanely much since then.

“Oi, Rukia,” Ichigo said. “How’re your ribs today?”

“Fine and dandy, thank you!”

“Scale from one to ten?”

“Zero!”

“What about now?” He lands a hand heavily on her left shoulder which causes her to stop completely.

“...Three,” she grits. “For a doctor’s son, you’re really not gentle at all.”

“You’re not the type that gentle works on.” He takes his hand and heat away. “Chill, I said I’ll go so stop trying to shake me off.”

“...how do you know that,” she mutters.

“What?"

“Nothing.” She falls into step next to him. Walking side by side, comrades off on the important mission of obtaining the most bountiful vegetables.

It has been two weeks since that incident. Karin was discharged from the hospital the day after Rukia woke up. The police had yet to find the culprits behind the incident but the search was very actively ongoing. Rukia was visited by the police for her statement while still in her hospital bed. An orange-haired, big-busted female and a white-haired, small-framed male who seemed to be her boss but looked younger than Ichigo. Apparently he had a baby face, or so the big-busted woman had said with a teasing smile directed at the fuming policeman.

Rukia fit in well at his house. She got along swimmingly with his dad, the two of them sitting in front of the TV after dinner each night howling in synchrony at some lame comedian show (more than once Ichigo had wanted to pull the TV plug as she doubled over in pain while still laughing too hard). Yuzu loved her and called her ‘Rukia-neechan’, made apple pie every second day after Rukia had complimented the first one with tears of joy in her eyes (it was like she had never seen one before, the sparkle in her eyes when she smelled it had been a sight to behold). Karin was… well, Karin had always been slow to warm up to strangers (maybe because it was summer, Karin was warming up pretty fast).

Rukia had a proper bed which was set up in the room of his sisters, but Ichigo knew she didn’t sleep there. She seemed to like small spaces, considering how tightly she curled up every time he found her in the armchair closest to the balcony. Almost like she had fallen asleep there while considering leaving through the window.

He knew she wanted to leave. No, not yet. Not while the people that hurt them were still out there. He knew she thought she was a bother, a freeloader that intruded on his family’s life. He wasn’t good with things of the heart and talking cheesy words. He just hoped his actions were enough. Act as normal as possible. Throw in an insult here and there...not like that was hard, she did irk him like no other. Things that would make himself comfortable: not tentatively treated like a guest and unintentionally made to feel out of place, not given the wide berth and unintentionally made to feel isolated. Simply the same as always, same bickering, same dynamics, except they saw each other more often now. Of course, living in close proximity with someone caused you to learn things about them that you didn’t know before. Like how soft and frizzy her hair looked in the mornings. Like how she preferred to use soap over laundry powder or liquid to wash her clothes. Like how she says a prayer to a photograph each night, the corners taped with yellowing sellotape, five people on a pale green background. It was reassuring to see the human sides of her. Sometimes he worried that she would fly away, like a crow after Halloween, or a sparrow during the season change. He always felt slightly unsettled when it came to her.

Well, it definitely wasn’t customary to be sharing a house with a girl his age that happened to be engaged to someone else. Maybe his unsettledness was anxiety that her future husband would appear one day and beat him up. The way Rukia described him was so...beastly. Like a wolf, the head of a pack. Oh well, if that day comes then Ichigo will proudly gain a new brother and declare that he had protected his girl for him while he was protecting her family.

Rukia carried one of those super lame foldable shopping trolley bags. It was a bright purple colour and had a logo of a rice brand printed on it. If Ichigo remembered correctly, it was a gift with purchase at Day Day Fresh Fresh for Grandmother’s day a while ago. Yuzu had been outraged at Rukia’s casual clothes (which even Ichigo had to admit, did her no justice) and had given her half of her own wardrobe. Today she wore a short-sleeved blue dress. Yuzu’s clothes fit her perfectly despite their age difference. Rukia was so small.

That was why he had to protect her. Her body was small, but her heart was big. She was kind to the neighbours, watered the plants carefully, stroked the back of the nauseous patient waiting in the emergency room. Rukia might not believe it, but Ichigo knows that under the layers of her walls and gates, something gold is there.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued :D


End file.
